An Unexpected Ray of Sunlight
by Phia Phoenix
Summary: The boy Remus passes his days in a haze of pain and self-hate, loneliness and terror, with books as his only escape. It is the same every month, and he has lost hope that the cycle will ever end... Until an unlooked-for incident makes him human once more.
1. An Unexpected Letter

_Pain, pain, pain. I scream, I flex, I snarl, I howl. Pain ends. But Moon burns. Moon always burns. Scents- rabbits, owls, prey of the dark. Me- hunter of the dark. But one scent missing. Human. No human scent. Moon burns. Moon only predator. Must escape moon. Must find pack. No pack. Hungry. Need food. Moon burns. I howl._

I run, towards trees, towards rabbit scent. Follow rabbit scent. Find hole- thrust snout in hole, growl, snarl. Smell fear. Rabbit flees, out escape hole. I follow. Chase, chase, chase. Catch. Grab rabbit- teeth around throat, shake, tear, rip. Rabbit stops wriggling. Eat rabbit. But no human. No human. Where human? Tear self, try to find human scent, no human scent, bite self, tear self, rip self. I howl

I hunt. Hunt, flee eye of moon, then hide from eye of sun. Hunt, for many darks. Then moon becomes smaller- pain, pain, pain. I howl, I snarl, I flex, I scream. The pain ends, and I am myself once more. But the pain never ends, and I doubt I'll ever be myself again. My wounds will heal, become scars, and be replaced by new ones after the next full moon. I know the cycle all too well.

I push my drab hair out of my eyes as I bend closer to the pages of the book. I'm seated cross-legged on my unmade bed, in my dark, messy room. I once named it my Den, in a fit of irony. Nobody calls it that, of course, but I know my parents think it when they refer to my room. The window is curtained and lets in little light, but I don't need it. My eyes are accustomed to seeing in the dark. I could light my wand, if I wanted to, but I don't really need it.

Books are my escape: I can lose myself in their fictional worlds, be a hero, an unflawed character, carry out amazing acts, and 'save the day'. My 'inside worlds' sit higgledy-piggledy on the shelves ringing my room, and I need no 'outside world'. And the outside world doesn't need me.

I can hear laughs from the boys outside, on the street. They look to be my age, children on the verge of being teenagers, but I've never made contact with them. I doubt they even know that I live here. I haven't had a friend for years and years, ever since… _it_ happened, and we moved here. In that time, I've hardly been out of my Den, much less my house, and it's better this way. Better for everyone.

Then again, I don't know if I'm really a child any more. Not a proper child, in any case. My Aunt once called me an old man in a child's body- but I am neither. I'm not even properly human, not any more.

There is a knock at the door.

"Remus? Darling, may I come in?"

In her voice I hear the usual tone of uncertainty, uncertainty a son should never have to hear in his mother's voice, but there is also an unfamiliar tremor there: could it be excitement?

"Yes Mother, come in. I'm only reading."

She enters, and stands in the middle of the room, hands nervously patting her apron. Her eyes dart around my room, taking in the mess of clothes, books, and parchment. Normally, she'd ask timidly if I would please try and clean up a little, but today she licks her lips and quavers,

"An owl came today, Remus. An owl, from Albus Dumbledore. I don't know if you've heard, he's taken over Hogwarts, he's Headmaster now."

I nod. I hadn't heard that he was Headmaster, but I had heard of Dumbledore. Everyone has heard of Dumbledore. I wonder what he will have to say? Somewhere inside of me a flicker of hope flares, but I quell it instantly. He's probably just writing to express his support of Dippet's decision. Nothing new. No change.

"Really?" My voice is carefully expressionless, dull and uninviting as usual. "I would have thought he'd be Minister for Magic by now. What did he have to say?"

"Oh, well, he says- Oh, Remus- he says that, given the right precautions, there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to attend school this year! You can go to Hogwarts!"

Hogwarts? Me? Attend Hogwarts? Me, go to school? No, no, there was a misunderstanding, that couldn't be right, they wouldn't want someone like me, surely? But now Mother has taken a slightly crumpled letter from her apron pocket, and is holding it out to me. I take it eagerly, and see the Hogwarts coat of arms at the top, before phrases written in a spidery, slanting hand leap out at me: _Suitable lodging whilst transformations occur…. Experts in related fields…. No different from other young wizards…. We would be delighted to offer Remus Lupin a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Something is welling up inside of me: not a bubble, not a balloon, there is an explosion expanding from my stomach up through my chest, and it rushes up my throat, erupting onto my face as a grin that is sure to tear my cheeks in half. It is the first time I have smiled in years, and it feels amazing. Before I know it I am leaping up, fiercely hugging my mother, and then I'm flying down the stairs and out the door. The Muggle boys on the street look up from their game of football, and I hardly have time to see the look of surprise and curiosity on their face before I'm past them, still running. It is overcast, yet I am unused to natural light and it almost blinds me, but I don't slow down. I can't remember running like this, ever, not on my two legs, and I don't think I'll ever stop. I'm going to_ Hogwarts! I'm going to school! _

I've sprinted a good five blocks before I double over, panting for breath. I realise that I have been laughing ever since I left my Den, and start chuckling anew at what the boys must have thought of me. They'll probably be inventing stories about the crackpot boy who is locked inside all the time, to keep him from harming people. I sober slightly, realising that this is close to the truth, but no thought can rid me of my euphoria.

_Hogwarts!_

Jogging the rest of the way to a small park, I find a secluded spot between two flowering bushes, and sit down to read over the letter again. By the time I've studied the signature, _Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ to the point that I will never forget it, my excitement is fading. My grin slowly disappears as I think about what this will mean. Is it really possible? Can someone like me really live with other, normal, people? Can I honestly board in a castle, sleep every night in a dormitory with almost half a dozen boys without… things going wrong? Will I be able to disappear once every month without anybody realising what I'm really doing?

What if I make friends, then they figure out what I am, and they hate me for it? Or, more seriously, what if I get out of hand? What if I bite someone? What if I condemn another innocent person to being… what I am?

I learned to face it years ago: people like me - _werewolves_ - are not fit to live with ordinary humans. We are not people, we are beasts. Dangerous, untrustworthy animals that should be locked away and kept from Muggles, witches and wizards alike, people who are pure and innocent and _unbitten_. This is why, every month, I take a Portkey to a deserted cottage in a deserted forest, miles away from humans, until I am safe. This is why I bear the scars, physical and mental, that prove what I am. This is why I shut myself away in my room for the rest of the month, barely making contact with my own parents except for food and lessons in magic. This is why me going to Hogwarts would never, ever work. This is why everyone, everyone, hates people like me.

But Albus Dumbledore doesn't hate me, says a voice in my head, the one that is all that left of who I was before. Albus Dumbledore thinks that I am _no different from any other young wizard…_ he thinks I deserve the opportunity, the right, to be taught magic at a school, that I am safe with girls and boys, witches and wizards, my age. He thinks that I am a person.

As I think, the clouds break for a moment and a ray of sunlight streams down, bathing me in its warmth. I turn my face upward, drinking it in. Even when the sun is hidden again, I remain staring up at the sky- I had thought until now that I had had enough of that distant domain to last me a lifetime, but I had reckoned without the power of the sun. The sun will never be ruled by the moon, I realise suddenly.

I stand up, decision made. If Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the modern age, trusts me, then I should trust myself. I will go to Hogwarts, and make friends, and learn more about magic. It will not be easy, but I'm used to that. I thrust my fears, misgivings, and self-doubts aside; I am ready to begin again, to start a new life - not as a werewolf, but as a young boy, a wizard. I am ready for this new adventure.

_A/N: Again, thanks to Anna for doing a lovely betaing job on this fic! And thankyou also to the admirable mods that thought up this challenge, I had a lot of fun writing for it!_

And, in editing this fic, my beta and I discovered some contrasting evidence in the books; drawing conclusions from HBP Dumbledore became headmaster decades before this fic was set, and this is the timelining that the Lexicon uses; yet, the Lexicon acknowledges that this contrasts with information from PoA. In chapter 18, Remus explains that he was allowed to come to Hogwarts when Albus became Headmaster. I have written this story according to the latter piece of information, so my story is not AU. It's simply based on a continuity error by JKR.


	2. An Unexpected Friendship

Diagon Alley is amazing. If you've never been there, you have no idea what you're missing. It is a maze of colour, movement, laughter, creatures, bangs, flashes, spells, people, and best of all- books!

That's where I am now. In the I have been home-schooled for a year Professor Dumbledore says I don't need to be in the first year at Hogwarts, that I can go straight to second year with other kids my age. I'm glad of this, because I would have been bored otherwise, but on the other hand I feel that I should probably study these books quitethoroughly, just to make sure I'm not behind. Well, that's my excuse for reading them, anyway. I've already bought all the books on the list that came with The Letter, and now I'm just going over them. I am not able to take my eyes off them, actually. Not only are they rich colours, beautiful, soft, shiny, and the pages perfectly un-crinkled, but they're fascinating! I've never imagined that _textbooks_ could be this interesting! My favourite is the Defence Against the Dark Arts book, but _Fantastic Creatures and Where to Find Them_ comes a close second. Did you know that there is a type of bird called a Snidget, and that the Golden Snitch is based on that? I've never cared much for Quidditch, but that's a funny little fact.

I turn the page.

_Werewolf._

The werewolf is found worldwide, although it is thought to have originated in Europe. Humans turn into werewolves only when bitten. There is no known cure. Once a month, at the full moon, the otherwise sane and normal wizard or Muggle afflicted transforms into a murderous beast. Almost uniquely among fantastic creatures, the werewolf actively seeks humans in preference to any other kind of prey.

Ministry of Magic Classification: Known wizard killer.

I feel slightly sick. That's me, a wizard killer, a murderous beast. For the last half-hour, I've forgotten all about it- I've felt like a normal boy, who is being stunned by the wonders of these magical shops. I've even been excited. It has felt so good, to be someone else, to be ordinary. But I am a werewolf. I am a werewolf! I must not forget, I must not forget!

There is a sliding sound beside me, and I quickly stop pummelling my forehead. A book has been removed from the shelf next to me, and through the sizeable gap it creates I see a boy about my age looking shiftily around his aisle. He has sallow, pale skin, lank black hair that hangs around his collar, and a long hooked nose. Black eyes glance suspiciously around as he tucks the large tome under his arm and heads towards the counter. I creep to the end of the aisle and peer around the shelves. Something in the demeanour of this hunted, friendless young boy almost connects me to him. He reaches the wizard lounging behind the sales desk and, without making eye contact, presents the book to him. He mutters something that even my sharp, wolf-like hearing can barely make out.

"It's for my older brother," he claims. But I feel that it's a lie, by the way that he clutches the book to himself, and still won't meet the sales wizard's eyes.

"Well, a boy like you's hardly gonna be reading summat like that!" drawls the man behind the counter. "That's thirty Galleons. Cough up."

The boy reaches into the pockets of his dirty, tattered, and too-large robes. Clutching a grimy handful of coins, he counts them out. Then he hesitates.

"You're still two Knuts short!" informs the wizard, eyes narrowing in silent laughter. "Didn't your brother give you enough gold?"

The boy is torn. I see in his eyes the yearning expression as he glances from the book in his arms to the money on the counter. My hunter's eyes read the situation: his body is poised defensively, ready to fly, but across his features is displayed an almost wolfish hunger. I glance down at my pocket, where the weight of a single Sickle rests against my side. Mother had given it to me, to buy myself sweets while she wandered over to Madam Malkim's.

"Here." I am pushing the Sickle across the counter where it settles with the small pile of the boy's coins. "I- I don't need this."

The boy looks at me with surprise and suspicion. The shop wizard rests back into his slouch behind the counter.

"Lucky your mate here –"

"I don't need help from you," the boy says. "I don't even know you. Keep your money, I'm no pauper. I'll come back later."

I am surprised by the venom in his voice.

"I was only trying to- look, you can keep it, honestly, I don't want it. I've already got enough books to last me, you might as well buy yourself one, I, I…" How can I say that I have seen the similarities between us, that we are both outsiders, different to other people, outcasts? But he seems to read it in my face. The shop wizard is forgotten, we look at each other for a long moment before he nods slightly and sticks out his hand.

"I'm Severus Snape. Slytherin.I'm about to start my second year at Hogwarts. You?" I take his hand. It is cool and damp, and his grip is light.

"R- Remus. Remus Lupin. I don't have a House yet, I've been home-schooled but I'm going to Hogwarts this year. I'll be in second year too."

"So you're not Muggle-born?" he asks, seeming both relieved and disappointed. I frown. This seems a strange question.

"No. All my family's magical."

Without realising it, we have walked away from the counter and towards the door. Both of us have our books clutched to our chests, and at almost the exact same moment we lift our hands to push hair out of our eyes. I notice the scars and bruises on his arm and he notices mine.

I smile easily, and nod towards the book I helped him buy.

"So, do you really have an older brother?" I grin.

The suspicion returns to his eyes.

"No, but I will read it myself. I do understand it. And I didn't steal the money either, if that's what you're thinking, I've been saving. If you tell anyone – my mother – my father – " Now he's anxious as well as aggressive. The understanding between us has disappeared.

I find myself reassuring him, and we walk together down an alley that I think is a shortcut to the section Madam Malkim's is in. Mother always tells me not to go down these types of alleyways, but Severus seems to think it's alright. What could happen in a place so close to Diagon Alley, anyway?

As we round the corner, four figures are waiting. Silently, they curse us, and we fall to the ground, immobile and defenceless. They take our books, both his and mine, and discard their wands to physically beat us. They kick our paralysed bodies savagely, over and over. They bloody my nose and blacken Severus's eye. And then it stops, and as silently as they appeared, they leave, melting into the shadows and Disapparating.

We lie on the ground. Blood is trickling down my face, but I can't wipe it away. Beside me Severus is moaning. Gradually I can hear him forcing his hand to his pocket. He pulls out a wand and mutters,

_"Expecto Patronum."_ A silver doe that glows in the gloom of the alleyway materialises. It bends its head to his mouth, and he forces instructions through his numb lips. The doe canters up the deserted alley, and into the street beyond that is Diagon Alley. I am in awe. A Patronus is very, very advanced magic. Even my father has difficulty casting one, let alone sending it on errands. Apparently Severus Snape is more than he's letting on.

Minutes later I am beginning to regain movement of my hand and arm. How Severus has willed his to move before, when he produced the Patronus, is beyond me. I hear running footsteps echoing on the cobbled ground, and soon a girl jogs into view. She has dark auburn hair, pale, delicate features, and even now I can't help noticing that her green eyes are the most stunning I have ever seen.

"Sev!" Her voice is shrill with concern. "What happened? I let you go off alone for ten minutes and you manage to get yourself beaten up? You must have a talent. It was just lucky you could cast your Patronus… Oh, your eye, it's all bruised, and – who's this?" She has noticed me.

She performs the counter-curse, and we sit up, groaning.

"For once, it wasn't Potter," growls Severus, and he explains what happened. The girl introduces herself as Lily Evans, and I tell her my name.

As we stand up stiffly and limp back towards Diagon Alley, Lily considers me. Those amazing green eyes take in my hair, limp and uncared-for, and my skin, ghostly white and puckered with old wounds.

"Not all those scars are recent, are they?" she asks softly. I shrug, keeping my gaze fixed on my feet.

When we reach the shop-lined street, full of bustling witches and wizards, I apologise to Severus.

"I'm sorry about, about your book."

He turns away, silent.

"He's not angry at you," Lily murmurs. "He's just upset. Books mean a lot to him, and I don't suppose anyone enjoys being mugged. It wasn't your fault."

It was. If I hadn't been talking to him, distracting him, he might have seen the thugs, might have been able to avoid him. If I hadn't given him the Sickle in that silly act of charity, he wouldn't have had anything worth stealing. If I hadn't gotten myself bitten all those years ago, I wouldn't even have been buying all those schoolbooks. If I weren't a werewolf, I would never have been compelled to introduce myself to Severus Snape.

But I nod anyway. I think Lily sees the hesitation in my face, and opens her mouth to say more, but Severus has already turned, limping left, back towards the Leaky Cauldron. She hastens to catch up with him, and support him on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Take care, Remus," she calls back. Severus glances over his shoulder, and I meet his unreadable black eyes once again. He inclines his head, just once, but it's enough. I raise a hand in farewell, and watch them disappear into the jostling crowd.

Mother will be upset about the books, I realise. But there's so much to do today, so much to buy, so much to see, in this wonder that is Diagon Alley, that within an hour I have all but forgotten meeting Severus Snape.

But I will never entirely forget.

_A/N: Thanks to Anna, my wonderful beta, for all her help. She's too hard on herself, honestly. The Werewolf definition is an excerpt from JK Rowling's _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_, edited only slightly for the purposes of this story._


	3. An Unexpected Lesson

I must be insane. What am I doing here? I open my mouth to tell Mother not to knock, but no words come out. She takes a shaky breath, and wipes her hands on her dress. It occurs to me that she looks as nervous as I feel. Then she lifts her hand, curls it into a fist, and raps timidly on the engraved wooden door.

"Do come in," echoes a deep voice from inside the Headmaster's office.

I steady myself, and enter. As we walked through the grounds, hurrying in order to evade the rain, I thought it almost lucky that the full moon had fallen right at the beginning of the school term, necessitating for me to arrive at Hogwarts in the midst of the week's classes. There had been no suspicious eyes watching me stumble through the vast, maze-like castle, keeping as close to my mother's skirts as a scared six-year-old. But now I think it would almost have been easier to arrive on the Hogwarts Express with everyone else, to be Sorted along with the first-years, to start the year fresh with all the other pupils.

If the full moon hadn't been when it was, I wouldn't have to encounter Professor Albus Dumbledore, the man who is allowing me to live beyond my wildest dreams. I wouldn't have to risk him changing his mind, seeing my scars and haunted face and sending me right back home.

But now Mother is entering, and I hasten to keep up with her.

The office is round, and full of sunlight, even though it is pouring down rain outside. On the desks there are stacks of books, parchment, and jumbles of silver contraptions. Behind the desk there is a tall wizard with flowing white hair and a beard. His half-moon spectacles sit on a long and crooked nose, and blue eyes twinkle at me with a dizzying mixture of amusement and seriousness.

"Why, good morning, Mister Remus! And Mrs. Genivieve Lupin, it is a pleasure to see you again. I trust you and your husband are well?"

"Very well, very well Professor Dumbledore, sir! My husband couldn't come; work is keeping him busy. I'm sorry about Remus having to arrive now, in the middle of the week, it was the full moon you see, I hope we haven't caused any difficulties, or, or – " Mother stutters. She is talking so fast it's a wonder Professor Dumbledore can understand her.

"No trouble, no trouble at all. In fact, I am quite glad to have this excellent opportunity to meet Remus." I am unsure whether to believe him, but he sounds so kind, so genuine, that I find myself smiling back at him. "I always enjoy the company of my students, you must not feel at all imposed by my status! Between you and me, I am quite sorry that I am no longer able to keep my position as Transfiguration teacher. Minerva will do an admirable job, I am certain, but I shall miss the opportunity to teach such fascinating young people. How are you feeling, Remus?"

I am thrown off by the sudden question.

"Well, thank you, sir. And, and I'm a bit… nervous." I hadn't meant to admit that.

But he looks at me kindly, as if he understands me.

"I am glad to hear that, Remus. I would think there was something quite wrong with you if you were not apprehensive. You have every reason and right to be. However, I hope that you will feel quite at home here at Hogwarts." He gestures towards two cushioned chairs. "Please, be seated. And without further ado, I think Mister Lupin ought to be given a House."

I seat myself gingerly, searching the surrounding shelves for the Sorting Hat. Father has told me about it, and I am relieved that all that is required of me is to put an old hat on my head. Still, I can't help but be anxious about my Sorting.

"Ah, here we are!" Professor Dumbledore stoops down and retrieves an old, scruffy, pointed Hat from underneath the desk. "If you would be so kind to place this on your head, Mister Remus."

"Good luck darling," whispers my mother. I take the Hat, and lower it over my hair. It slides down my forehead, until the brim is covering my eyes.

The inside of the Hat is dark. The worn threads let in some dim light, but not enough to see anything by.

"Oh, an interesting specimen," murmurs a voice. I turn my head frantically. Where is it coming from? "Yes, very interesting. Do stop twisting around so boy, I'm only an old Hat, no need for alarm. Now – I see that you read quite a lot. You know, I think you would be quite suited to Ravenclaw…"

Ravenclaw! My father was in Ravenclaw. I didn't think I would be smart enough for Ravenclaw, for all my good memory and love of stories.

"However, what's this… oh… Very interesting, indeed. You have wolfish cunning – but you'll excuse me for saying that I can't quite see you in Slytherin. But your bravery, yes, I see much courage. I don't think you know quite how much brave you are, boy. So, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? Hmmm… I think…. GRYFFINDOR!"

There is a burst of applause, and squealing from my mother. The Hat must have shouted the last word aloud. I remove the battered object from my head, giddy with relief. Gryffindor! But… it didn't seem quite right.

I catch Professor Dumbledore's eye. He inclines his head, gazing gravely at me as if he already knows what I am about to say.

"Professor… the Hat says that I'm brave, but, but… I'm not. I worry, and I stutter, and I am scared of the littlest things. The dark. The light in the dark. I dread the full moon, and I cry all week before it, and I have nightmares, and, and, I don't think the Hat was right. I don't think I belong in Gryffindor."

He smiles at me, a sad smile.

"Remus. The Hat is very rarely wrong. I believe that it made the correct choice. Bravery is not a lack of fear – it is being afraid and acting anyway. You have more reason than any other child in this castle to be afraid, and yet here you are in front of me. You have seen the dangers, the obstacles you will have to overcome, and chose to follow this path anyway. That is a mark of true bravery, much more so than facing a dragon, or fighting a Chimaera, or climbing the world's highest mountain. Do not be ashamed of your fear. Without fear, you cannot be brave." He stops. I think about what he's said, and I nod.

"Thank you, Professor. I think you are right, and yet – I still don't think I'll belong in Gryffindor."

He chuckles, and gets to his feet. My mother and I do the same.

"Well Remus, there is only one way to find out! Time will tell. I will go and find Professor McGonagall, and she will take you to class. But before you go – " He reaches into a drawer in his desk, and pulls out a length of red and gold material. "Here is your House scarf. Most students are issued with it during their first year. Wear it well and I hope it keeps your neck warm, for that is what it is primarily meant for, of course! I will give you both some time to say goodbye." He strides to the fireplace, and disappears inside it.

Mother hugs me, and I can feel her crying, sobs shaking her shoulders. When she speaks her voice is muffled.

"Oh, Remus, my darling little boy, I never thought I'd see the day… Now you be good, do your homework, and write to me. Don't get into any fights, and for Godric's sake, don't tell your friends where you go every month! My little boy, grown up and going to school…" Words seem to fail her. I pat her shoulder, faintly embarrassed.

Behind me there is a popping noise. I gently pull out of mother's grasp, and she straightens, blowing her nose. Professor Dumbledore appears in the fireplace, with a strict-looking woman in black robes and a Gryffindor badge pinned on her chest.

"Remus, this is Minerva McGonagall. She has taken my place as Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House, and I am sure you will pay her the utmost respect. Now, chop chop! Off to class with you. Well, Genivive, would you care for some tea?"

***

Professor McGonagall leads me out of the office, down the spiralling staircase, and past the stone gargoyles. As we walk briskly, she talks briskly, explaining where the Gryffindor Common Room is, which classes I'll be taking, and when mealtimes are.

"At the moment, your class is supposed to be in Herbology. However, last night the greenhouses were struck by a falling tree and so all students have a free period in place of the Herbology class. This time is used for studying." I nod, not sure what to say.

We come to a classroom full of laughing children, all sprawled about the desks, talking, writing, and reading.

"Excuse me!" Professor McGonagall calls, and the room goes silent, all eyes turning towards us. I shrink back. They all look so sure of themselves, and inquisitive as to who – and what – I am.

"Second years, your attention, please! This is Remus Lupin. He was unable to attend school last year due to illness, but he is fit enough now to board here and will henceforth be in your class. I trust that you will make him feel at home." She turns to me, hands me my timetable, and turns to leave, saying as she does, "Good luck to you Remus, I am sure you will do very well at our school. Remember, your House is your family, and I am head of your House."

And now I am alone, with all those eyes on me. Scanning for a familiar face, I spot Severus, hidden behind a book. I shuffle towards him and make to sit down in an empty seat next to him when the large, burly boy on his other side takes a wad of gum from his mouth, sticks it under the desk, and stands up.

"And what do you think you're doing, sickling?"

"I was just going to sit down here, because there's a free seat and – "

"I highly doubt that. What's that growth on your neck?" I look down, perplexed. I see no growth. The other boy smirks.

"I mean, the red and gold one." It dawns on me. He is referring to my scarf, the one that shows I'm in Gryffindor. I look at his scarf – green and silver. Slytherin. With a sinking feeling I remember the traditional rivalry between the two houses.

"No pussy-cat coward is sitting here. Huh, ill for a whole year, were you? You look it. I've never seen such a puny little weed in my entire life. Get lost, new boy." He turns to his friends, jeering. "I knew the standards in Gryffindor were gong downhill, but for a thing like that to be Sorted in there? I can't wait 'til the Quidditch season starts. It'll be a breeze, if Gryffindor's team's made of mice like him!"

I look at Severus for support. None is forthcoming. He simply raises his book higher, apparently utterly absorbed in the page before him.

"Alright then. I don't know why you need to be so unfriendly. Or so stupid, or so ugly, come to that." What? Where did those words come from? They were the sort of thing I would think but never, ever say. I quail at the look on the Slytherin's face.

"You little Gryffindor rat!" He goes for his wand. I reach for mine, and we stand face to face, wands drawn, both panting: he in rage, I in fear. We have the attention of the entire room upon us.

_"Stupefy!"_ he screeches, as I yell,

_"Protego!"_

His spell bounces off my shield, and smashes a window. His head whips around at the sound of breaking glass, and I spot my chance. Raising my wand up to my shoulder height, I cry,

_"Waddiwasi!"_ The gum he had stuck underneath the desk soars out, and up his left nostril. He bends over, chokes and snorts. I stand over him, wand in my hand, chest heaving. I am powerful, I am the victor, I am the predator! I almost throw back my head and howl, then stop, sickened. I don't want to be the wolf; I want to be Remus. I could tear this boy, kick him, make him suffer. That is what the werewolf wants. But that would be wrong. I fight away the bloodthirsty beast and reach my hand down, hauling him up. I know that it's the right thing to do. He pushes me away.

"Sorry," I tell him. "But my House is my family, and I can't let anyone insult my family."

He glares at me with hatred.

"Hey!" someone suddenly calls from the other side of the classroom. "New boy! Come and sit with us."

I make my way, between desks, between young witches and wizards, to where the voice came from. Presently I see a thin, smallish boy. He has ebony hair that looks like it's never seen a comb, and glasses flashing in front of his hazel eyes.

"That was wicked!" he tells me as I plonk myself down next to him. "Finally, someone other than us teaching Avery a lesson! He's a troll, I swear it." He sticks out his hand. "I'm James Potter. What was your name again? I wasn't listening to old 'Gall."

"I'm Remus. Remus Lupin," I say without stuttering. James nods.

"Excellent, you're in Gryffindor. So'm I. Oh, and so are Sirius and Peter here." He gestures in turn to a tall boy, with long, dark hair and a careless grace I envy. He nods lazily to me, and congratulates me on my quick spellwork. The other is quite the opposite; a plump boy with dirty blonde hair. He has sharp eyes and a sharp nose, although the former are quite watery and remind me, quite unfairly, of a rat. He pipes up in a squeaky voice that he thought my magic had been amazing, and I was so brave. There is something in his whining, ingratiating tone that puts me on edge, but I have had few enough compliments in my life that I put it aside.

"Hopefully, you'll be in our dormitory," James continues. "Little Johnny White left last year. Something to do with spattergroit."

He peers at my scarred face.

"Say, you didn't have spattergroit, did you? How come you were ill all last year?"

My mouth goes dry.

"I… I had, dragonpox. Yeah. Bad case. I'm allergic to it, er, dragonpox that is."

The lie sounds feeble even to me. But James seems satisfied, after a second of disbelief in which his eyebrows were halfway up his forehead. He asks what Quidditch team I support, and when I say that I've only ever read about it, he begins bombarding me with facts and figures about Puddlemere United, which I assume is the team he supports. Occasionally Sirius chips in with a comment or a correction, but most of the time he merely stares around the classroom, the classic picture of elegant boredom. Peter, on the other hand, hangs off James's every word, and squeals agreement with everything.

***

The "Herbology" lesson passes quickly. Soon the other kids are all pouring from the crowded room. James, Sirius and Peter are the last to leave. I tag along behind them.

"Hey, Remus," Sirius says casually. "You wanna sit with us at lunch, mate?"

I grin.

"Nothing I'd like better. Mate."

***

As I lie in my bed, listening to the other three snoring, I think. I think about the lessons I have been taught, and the lessons I have learned, and the difference between the two.

I think about Avery's cruelty. His abuse of power, the way he was malicious simply for the sake of it.

I think about the feeling I had while I was standing over Avery, and the power that I had felt. And how I had suppressed that feeling.

I think about what Dumbledore said – bravery is not about lack of fear, it is about being afraid and acting in spite of that.

I wonder whether this can be applied to goodness, kindness. Perhaps goodness is not the lack of potential for cruelty, but having the potential and being kind in spite of that.

I realise that being a werewolf does not affect the person I am. Being part animal does not ensure that I am evil. When I am a werewolf, I harm other beings, but it is not the fault of the werewolf. It is all the werewolf knows. The werewolf knows nothing of the word kindness. As such, it cannot be expected to be kind. It knows no difference between right and wrong.

Humans, however, are different. We do know the difference between right and wrong. And sometimes, sometimes we do the wrong thing even when we know that it's wrong. And that is the true nature of evil.

But sometimes, we do the right thing. And that is when we know that we are human.

_A/N: I know, I know, this chapter is almost as long as the other two put together! Oh well… Thanks again to the awesome Anna!_


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